There was no answer.
He shook his head and rolled his neck. It cracked and felt funny. He stretched out his great arms and locked them behind his neck, yawning a long yawn.
“How long have I been sleeping this time? Feels like months.” He swallowed hard. “Oh no.”
He held out his arms. His clawed hands jutted out of the heavy green robes that covered him. His fingers seemed the same as they had before, but the nails seemed a little longer and thicker. He reached back and rubbed his neck.
“What?”
He felt a series of bumps on his neck.
They felt like hard, rigid, protruding scales.
“No!”
He grabbed the heavy robes that covered his chest and tore them off.
His chest was covered in black scales that reflected the candlelight.
“No!”
Gaping, he stared at the long nails on his scaly toes and fell back against the granite altar. “This can’t be,” he said, grabbing his head and shaking it in his hands.
“My face!”
He ran his scaly fingers all over it and found long locks of his auburn hair. His chin was covered in a beard. He stormed through the room, looking for anything that might give him a reflection of his face. But only the door was there and it showed nothing.
Gently he traced his face with his fingers once more. “I think it’s still the same.” He gave himself a once over. Everything he could see was covered in scales. And they weren’t smooth like a snake’s either.
“What is this?” He ran his hand over the armor-like ridges on his arms. They were as hard as rock and metal. “I don’t think I’ll need Brenwar’s breastplate anymore.”
He combed his long hair though his fingers in front of his face and shook his head. “It’s never been this long before. I wish I could see myself … I bet I look magnificent.” He sauntered through the chamber. “But first things first. Where in Nalzambor am I?”
The last thing he remembered was eating enough food to feed an army, sitting at that magic table down by the river with Brenwar, Bayzog, Sasha and Ben. Licking his lips, he could still taste the pie on his tongue…
His tummy rumbled. Worry crossed his features.
“I’ve got to get out of here,” he said.
He walked over to the iron door, started to pound on it and stopped. He’d been assuming Brenwar must be on the other side, or another of his friends, but what if that wasn’t the case?
What if he was captured?
If his enemies had him?
And his friends were dead?
The Clerics of Barnabus could easily be behind it. He pressed his ear to the great metal door and closed his eyes.
A minute passed, then two. Nothing.
“Hmmmm,” he said, rubbing his chin and eyeing the torches high above him.
The flames didn’t flicker or waver, and no wispy smoke billowed from them.
“Magic is behind this.”
He ran his hands over the great columns with ancient carvings in them. He tested the tiles on the floor. He knocked on all the walls high and low, but the chamber was as solid as a mountain of stone.
He punched his fist into his hand. Grinded his teeth. Let out a puff of smoke. “I need out of this tomb.” He took a deep breath and yelled at the top of his lungs, “BRENWAAAAAAAAAR!”
His voice fell flat. Not even an echo. Nath felt alone. Scared. Angry.
“No! Someone must know I’m in here!”
He punched the iron door over and over.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang…
He beat it until his knuckles ached and he couldn’t hit it anymore. Chest heaving and sweat rolling down his eyes, he glared at the door with anger. He’d dented it, but the door was just as tight as ever in its ancient frame. Whatever was put in here was never meant to get out. That much was clear.
He rubbed the sore knuckles on his hand.
“This is bad.”
Nath’s mind started racing. Had they put him in here to protect him or to keep him? How long could he live inside the chamber without starving to death? Without water? Why was he even alive? All of that food he’d eaten must have lasted him.
He began pacing back and forth, angry and muttering under his breath.
What is going on? I can’t die like this. I’ll starve.
He hit the columns. He kicked the slab altar. He let out a roar. Smoke billowed out.
Hmmmm.
He felt his great chest fill with heat. He wanted nothing more than to let it out. He eyed the door.
How hot is my breath, anyway?
He squared up on the door. Inhaled a deep breath.
WHOOOSH!
A geyser of hot flames roared out. Nath poured it on. The entire chamber lit up in the red hot light. He breathed until he was out of breath.
Smoke was everywhere. The stink of charred metal filled his nose. He fanned the smoke from his eyes and saw a large hole of dripping iron metal greeting him like the mouth of a melting Giant. He jumped right through it.
“Yes!”
It was dark on the other side, but the glowing metal gave him a little illumination. His keen sight came into focus. He stood at the bottom of a stone staircase that led up in a spiral. It wound along the inner sidewall that stretched into the fathomless darkness.
“Great Guzan!” he said, exasperated. “Where am I?”
He headed up the slowly winding steps, traversing what seemed to be the mouth of a volcano or geyser or something. It must have been a hundred feet from one side to the other. The rock walls were smooth, the steps wide as he traveled upward, minute after minute, hour after hour until he stopped and sat down.
He wasn’t tired.
What madness is this?
He could see thirty feet up the steps and thirty feet back, but everything else was black as a moonless night. Below, the warm illumination of the torches gave him comfort. Above, uncertainty was wrinkling the thought of freedom.
“Perhaps I dream,” he said to himself. “Perhaps I’m dead.” He groaned. “On your feet, Nath Dragon. Even if you are dead, you can at least act like you’re alive.”
Running his hand along the wall, he ascended two steps at a time, sometimes three. Losing track of time, he moved onward, upward, higher and higher.
This is madness.
“Bayzog!”
CHAPTER 29
Nath’s voice echoed in the cavern and fell flat. A brisk draft of cold air hit him like a stone.
“Perhaps I’m alive after all,” he said, resuming his trek up the stairs.
The sensation of the moving air tingled his senses and up above, way in the distance, he swore he saw a wink of light.
That has to be a door. It has to be.
Minute after minute he continued his ascent up the stairs while the dot of light became bigger and bigger. He doubled his pace, taking five steps at the time, sometimes six. If he had to guess how far he had walked it must have been miles, maybe leagues. Oddly, this didn’t make him impatient, only more determined.
“If the Clerics of Barnabus are behind this, I might kill them all,” he said when he reached the top, where a small portal of light gleamed like a white star.
A large wooden door―girded in straps of iron with a ring for a handle―greeted him.
He reached for it, then pulled his hand back. “Better at least take a look first.” Holding his clawed hand out, he felt a cold breeze blasting through the cracks around the door. He took a peek, popped backward, and shook his head.
“What in the world? This can’t be.” He grabbed the rung of the door and pulled it open.
Icy wind and snow blasted into him.
Forcing his way through the stiff winds, covering his eyes with his arms, he treaded into what looked like the icy mouth of a cave. Icicles dangled from above like great Dragon teeth, and sunlight sparkled on the jagged tips. Drawn to the sunlight like to a hot bath on a cold day, Nath lumbered forward with his teeth chattering.
> “Where in Nalzambor am I?” he said yet again, stepping through the cave and eyeing his unfamiliar surroundings. “Who brought me here and why?”
There he stood outside the mouth of the cave with icicles already forming on his eyebrows. He waded through knee-deep snow until he found himself peering from the overlook of a great mountain. Above him was more rock and mountain, and the bright sunlight was a ball of fire behind a misty and cloudy sky. Ahead and below him were more snow-covered peaks as far as the eye could see. The sight was both beautiful and terrifying. The bitter cold felt like a blanket of death. He had to get moving. But who put him up here and why?
“Did I just crawl out of my own tomb?” He stretched out his arms and yelled, “Where am I?”
A snow-covered crop of boulders nearby shifted and tiny balls of snow trickled off them.
Nath watched it with a keen eye as a renewed sense of danger coursed through his freezing blood.
The boulders started to move.
Nath’s hand fell to his waist.
Fang wasn’t there.
Like cracking eggs the snow split, and thick-thewed hairy monsters emerged, carrying razor sharp battle axes.
Nath backed towards the edge of the overlook.
They flanked him. Closed in, trudging through the snow. They were grisly, inhuman and bearded.
“Finally finish yer nap?” one spit out from a snow-covered beard.
Nath leaned forward, squinting his eyes. “Brenwar?”
The old Dwarf shook the snow from his face and beard and nodded.
The rest of the Dwarves dusted the snow from themselves and remained in their places.
“Of course it’s me,” Brenwar said, dusting off his shoulders. “Now come on, we have to get going.”
“Wait a moment,” Nath said, trudging through the snow towards him. “What are we doing up here to begin with?”
Brenwar looked Nath over, snorted, and started shaking his head.
“What?” Nath asked.
“What? I’ll tell you what! Ye’ve changed again. It’s even worse than I expected.” Brenwar started to march away through the snow. “Now come on.”
Nath grabbed Brenwar by the arm and stopped him. He looked him dead in the eye and said, “What am I doing up here?” He gestured toward the cave where the door was. “And what was I doing way down in there?”
Brenwar jerked his arm away. “We were hiding you.”
“From who?”
“Who do you think?”
“Barnabus? All the way up here? That’s crazy!”
“It’s a crazy world,” Brenwar said. “Why do you think we put you in there?”
Nath took a pause. He didn’t like the way Brenwar had said that, not at all. There was something edgy about the Dwarf’s tone. Brenwar seemed to be in a hurry. He’s never in a hurry.
“I’m just as ready to get off this mountain as you are,” Nath said, starting after him, “but you could at least act like you’re glad to see me.”
Brenwar stopped, swung his War Hammer over his shoulder, and glared.
“I’m hungry! Can’t you tell?” Brenwar said. “Me and my Dwarves didn’t get much food up here guarding you, and in case you didn’t notice, there ain’t no ale. No taverns or toasty fires either.”
“Well, how long have I been asleep?”
“Long enough,” Brenwar said, moving down an icy path that only the keenest eyes could make out.
Nath fell in behind him and the rest of the Dwarven soldiers followed.
“Longer than the last time?”
“What do you think?”
“I think these icy peaks are warmer than you!”
“Good!”
Nath didn’t have any trouble keeping up with Brenwar, but he was irritated. Once again he could tell that Brenwar was holding something back. Brenwar was normally very forthcoming with the truth.
And there was another thing that bothered him. If he’d been out for months like the last time, had Brenwar and the rest of the Dwarves been guarding him all this time in this intolerable climate? Why hadn’t they just kept him in Morgdon? No one could have gotten to him there.
Nath fought the urge to ask more questions, opting to keep his mouth shut until they returned to a more palatable climate. His cheeks were numb, but the rest of him didn’t feel that bad. Even his clawed toes weren’t cold. He puffed out a cloud of warm smoke and Brenwar caught it out of the corner of his eye.
“Don’t do that,” Brenwar said. “They’re looking for you.”
“I doubt anyone is looking up here. I have to say, I wouldn’t follow anyone up here.”
Brenwar huffed along through the dusk and until dawn before he finally came to a stop. The snow had stopped and there were green trees and tall grasses on level land that greeted the mountains.
Nath still didn’t know where he was, but now that Brenwar had finally stopped, it was time to ask questions.
“How long was I asleep?”
“Long enough.”
Nath grunted. He figured it couldn’t have been much longer than the last time.
“Where are Bayzog, Ben and Sasha?”
Brenwar shrugged.
“Why didn’t you just take me to Morgdon?”
“You didn’t like it much the last time,” Brenwar said, “Did you? You think I’d let you wake up and sneak out again? No, no, no.”
“Where are we?”
“Between the Ruins and the Pool of the Dragon,” Brenwar said. He combed some snow out of his beard and shook it.
“I think you missed some,” Nath said, reaching out his taloned fingers. He stopped. “Is that white hair in your black beard?”
Brenwar pushed his hand away and turned his back.
Nath jerked him around. “Brenwar, how long did I sleep?”
Brenwar mumbled something that Nath heard just fine.
“Not long,” he said, “for a Dragon.”
CHAPTER 30
Nath sat shaking his head with his eyes fixed on Brenwar. It seemed pretty clear he’d been asleep a couple of years, maybe more. The lines in Brenwar’s face had gotten deeper and his scars were more.
“Come on,” he urged. “Out with it.”
Around him, mostly standing, were the rest of the Dwarves. Though younger by maybe a century or two, they looked like they’d seen a lifetime of battle. Nath recognized some of them, but they’d changed. One was missing an arm, another a hand. One’s face was badly acid burnt, and another one’s hairless arms were scorched. In one way or another it was clear they all had suffered a loss of some sort, even Brenwar. His wounds might be less visible, but they were deep. Nath could tell.
“We kept you in Morgdon the first year, but the Dwarven High Council voted you out,” Brenwar said. “And I agreed. The Clerics of Barnabus raised an army and the senseless slaughter began. They tore through every town and village they could, terrorizing women and children. There was only so much the Dwarves could do to protect them, so they turned you over.”
Nath popped forward. “You turned me over!”
Brenwar stuck out his hand. “Settle down. I’m not finished yet. We turned you over and rescued you. It was Bayzog’s idea.”
“Well that figures,” Nath said. “Blasted wizards. So what happ—”
“I’m getting to that. Let me tell the story, will ya!”
Nath sat back, frowning, but motioned to continue.
“It was you, and it wasn’t you,” Brenwar said. “It fooled them anyway. It especially worked when we rescued it and you were taken away to be hidden. But a great many paid for it. A great many indeed. It was one of the bloodiest battles we’d ever been in. But it had to be convincing.”
Nath’s brows buckled. He hated to ask, but he did anyway.
“How many died, Brenwar?”
“It doesn’t matter how many died. What matters is that you are safe.”
“No,” Nath said, crossing his arms over his knees, “I want to know how many, and I want to know
their names. I can at least honor them. I’m grateful. I need to say thanks of some sort. It’s hard to take that so many died on account of me. I have to do something. Just tell me.”
“All the fallen are written on a wall in Morgdon and their heroics have been noted. You can take a look at them the next time you’re there.”
Nath looked around at his surroundings and everyone else. Sadness mixed with anger in his belly.
“Just tell me now. We don’t seem to be going anywhere at the moment. I don’t even know where we are. Just give me some names.”
Brenwar put his hand on Nath’s shoulder. “Let it go. We’ve got other things to do.”
“Like what?” Nath rose to his feet and towered over Brenwar. “Finding more ways to not tell me anything?”
“More than a thousand, you black scaled, red headed step child!”
Nath whirled. “What?”
It had come from the smallest Dwarf. He came forward, walking with a limp. His eye was missing and what was left of his brown beard was corded and braided. His eyes were bright and fiery.
“I’m Pilpin, and since you want to know so much, I’ll tell you. My brothers, six of them, Chilptin, Kiltpin, Lilpin, Farpin, Stigpin, Zerpin are dead. My father Lanpinpin is dead from defending you too. You see all these Dwarves?” he said, flailing his arm their way. “They’ve got dead kin too and that’s just the ones that were fighting. That’s not counting the thousands that died in the towns and villages and that’s just the ones that we know of. So sit down and I’ll give you all the names you want! Harumph!”
Nath grabbed his own head and dug his nails in. His blood stopped. Guilt set in. Thousands had died because of him? Why? He stepped backward, shaking his head.
No. How can this be?
Pilpin started prattling off names.
“That’s enough,” Brenwar growled. “He’s got plenty to chew on now.”
Nath offered Brenwar a blank look and took a hard swallow.
“Tell me more, Brenwar,” he said, “I most know. Everything!”
“Alright then,” Brenwar nodded. “So we rescued this pseudo version of you. And it’s still alive.”
Nath groaned. More guilt was setting in.
Hunt For The Hero (Book 5) Page 11
